To
some, solitude is bliss, a silver lining in the stormy clouds.
To others, it is a plague, a slow but sure death-sentence.
How can a person survive without the hustle and bustle of
life around them? Well, having broken my foot in a little
footy-ball accident I got in a park, I got a crash course
in 'Isolation 101', staying home alone and on one good foot
too.

Though
I really like the alone time I get at home after a long day,
the thought of having to spend three whole weeks at home,
and during my summer break, did enough to bring tears to my
eyes. Unfortunate for me, this little notion occurred to me
in the doctor's presence and he prescribed some 'painkillers'
as precaution but they did little to ail my sensitive state
of being.

Friends
started to pour into my home as soon as they heard the breaking
news. Ouch! Now, they knew that I was home alone at the moment
and they all started to bring me little tit-bits to soothe
me. I couldn't help but feel an air of Don Carleone, The Godfather.
Since time is the best healer and I had plenty to spare, I
had decided to watch The Godfather trilogy (again) and as
people came to the 'Don' and pay respect and offer little
tokens of friendship. Well, any attention is good attention
when your only other form of entertainment comes via a satellite
dish. It's amazing how one can look forward to visits from
others; the craving only grows with every passing hour.

I thanked
my stars that I had managed to pile up a little collection
of personal DVDs and this was like a speck of light at the
end of a long tunnel. As I went to my collection, happy at
the insurance I had, I realised that I had watched all of
them. So much for insurance! I next turned my attention to
the telly. As I flicked from channel to channel, I came to
a Wrestling match on Ten Sports. It was amazing how the whole
wrestling world has conglomerated with the drama world and
as Shakespeare puts it '…the world is a stage…"
everyone was acting rather than fighting. I did not understand
that there was a deep story involved with all the wrestlers
and their rivals, almost like in comic books and the forces
of bad would always cheat and betray, gaining the crowds'
'boos' while the good people would always keep their honour.
Some people have their soaps like 'Kusum' or 'Jassi Jaisi
Koi Nahi' but I had my wrestling and, as predictable as it
might be, this was the gig for me.

Another
platoon of friends reinforced my room and pretty soon it was
like a party. Since I was immobile, my friends started to
bring in things from the kitchen and did all my biddings.
It was a time of pure ecstasy. I had to make the most of it
before my foot got better and I was again at the receiving
end of jeers and jokes. Nonetheless, it was nice to me thinking
of getting better and returning to the game. Putting on my
team's jersey always gave me a sense of pride and the belief
that I could do anything, even back-heel inside my own d-box,
which was unfortunate if the truth be known though the keeper
really should have been looking at the ball and not the joggers
at the park.

There
is no 'i' in team as I had been taught in soccer and in the
days that I was confined to my solitary recovery, I realised
that 'solitude', 'loneliness' and 'isolation' all have a big
'i' in them. I was in for an even bigger lesson because the
only thing that helped in passing my days was the 'i' in my
friends. In that brief period, I understood that all walls
could be climbed by that special ladder called friends.